


Trick and Treat

by agentz123



Series: Ducktober 2020 [6]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Badass Donald Duck, Dad! Donald, Darn Hooligans, Ducktober (Disney), Ducktober 2020 (Disney), Gen, Halloween, If Yall Don't Let Donald Hand Out Candy, Inferences of Murder, Mention of weapons, Overprotective Donald Duck, The Treating, The Trickening, Trust Issues, Written in Response to Unresolved Conflict in S3's "The Trickening!", i'm gonna fight, rated T just in case, trick or treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123
Summary: Huey, Dewey, and Louie set out on their first trick-or-treating session without their uncle Donald.Ducktober 2020, Day 10 - The Trickening and Day 11 - The Treating
Relationships: Donald Duck & Della Duck, Donald Duck & Della Duck & Duckworth, Donald Duck & Della Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Dewey Duck & Louie Duck, Webby Vanderquack & Duckworth, Webby Vanderquack & Scrooge McDuck
Series: Ducktober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956628
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

“Today’s the day, today’s the day, today’s the day!” Dewey screamed, skipping around the living room (careful not to upset his new unibrow, of course) while Huey adjusted his bow tie and lab coat. He was going as Albird Einstein this year, since he wouldn’t have to worry about brushing his hair. 

Today’s the day Uncle Donald was going to let him and his brothers go trick-or-treating. _By themselves!_

"Okay. Yes. Today’s the day.” His boys were growing up so fast. Donald quickly swiped at what seemed to be a piece of dust in his eye. “But we have to lay out a few rules. One, don't go anywhere too scary. Two, don't go anywhere too dark. And three, do not enter anyone's house." 

"Yes, Uncle Donald." 

"And always stick together, okay?" 

“Fine.”  
“We will.” 

Donald knelt and gathered them closer to him. "Promise me. Promise me you will never leave your brothers." He looked deeply into their eyes as they each swore. Donald sighed, his feathers still tingling. 

No. It's fine. His nephews were a bit much sometimes, but they were good boys. 

He could trust them. 

"Do you boys need to go potty before you leave?" 

"Uncle Donald!"  
"Come on!"  
"What are we, babies?" 

There was a pause as their uncle stared at them knowingly. 

After a brief restroom break, the triplets rushed through the door and out into the fishy neighborhood. “Be back by seven!”

***

It was about 6:40 now. Donald had seen over thirty trick-or-treaters tonight, young and old. He never knew so many friendly people had stayed on the pier! It was such a shame that he never did have the time to go out and interact with his neighbors, with the number of hours he was forced to work and --

“Trick or treat!” 

The young sailor’s stress dissipated as he grinned at the adorable skeleton and witch that stood on his gangplank. He reached over for his candy bowl, but realized it was empty already. The boys must have snuck a few pieces for their own pillowcases. No worries, though. “Oh, sorry kids. I seem to have run out. I have some more in the kitchen though. Be right back.” 

Donald whistled cheerfully as he excused himself to the kitchen. Halloween has got to be his favorite holiday. There’s the process of making costumes, watching the smiles and hearing the laughter of children when they argue over who had the biggest haul. He even enjoyed chasing Huey around the houseboat for a few hours before the kid had a sugar crash. 

As he was returning to the front door, Donald heard a familiar chirp. The empty bowl fell out of his distracted hands as he strained to make sure his ears were not deceiving him. 

No, they were not. The sound had happened again. 

“Mister? Are you alright?” The pup and the kit frowned as the weird guy’s feathers paled. He immediately shoved the entire bag of candy in their hands before zooming off. 

“Cool! We’re DEFINITELY coming back to this house next year!”

Donald sped around the docks, trying to locate the source of the sound. “Lou? Louie! Where are you?” 

He desperately spun around in circles, his damp eyes peeled for a tiny ghost in a green sheet. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. 

“ _Llewelyn!_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

The whirring blades inched closer and closer, trapping the ducklings on the edge of the harbor. Huey desperately tried to focus on anything else other than the thought of being sliced in half, but when he looked up from the chainsaw’s teeth, a flaming clown and an oozing zombie bore into his soul. He felt a strange rumbling in his throat as his feathers ruffled, and emitted a distressed squeak that resembled Louie’s. Dewey gripped his brothers’ hands, and puffed out his chest. “We rather die than hand over our candy!” he growled, his voice trembling more than his knees. 

“That can be arranged,” one of the teens barked. The clown one. The one with the huge rotten teeth and skin paler than a ghost’s. The one with the dark eyes about to pop out of their sockets. 

“I’ll rearrange _you,_ you big palooka!” a familiar voice screeched. 

“Uncle Donald!” 

Louie, in his excitement over the sight of his hero, tripped over his blanket. He slipped and started to fall backwards into the inky waves. Just before he was swallowed by the sea, there were two warm grips on each of his hands. 

“Hey! Uncle Donald said not to leave you, right? And I’m not in the mood for a swim right now. Are you, Dew?” 

“Nah. Maybe after I’ve rested thirty minutes after pigging out on all of our candy.” 

After pulling Louie back up, the triplets took in the sight of a growing hurricane. Their uncle had managed to wrestle away the chainsaw without losing too many feathers, and turned it on the bad guys. Yes! Go Uncle Donald! Get ‘em, get ‘em! 

“Huey, Dewey, Louie! Come to me,” Uncle Donald called, reaching out with his hand. The triplets formed a chain, and Donald managed to swivel positions, using the blades to intimidate the fiends closer to the water. He oughta sever them with their own weapon. He oughta -- 

Donald dismissed the thought. He was just going to humiliate them instead. “Lift up your masks,” he snarled, anger bursting under his skin. “ _I said lift up your masks!_ ” He yanked on the cord of the chainsaw, and the roar grew stronger. With shaking hands, the zombie and the clown were replaced with a couple of sniveling Beagle Brats. Donald’s disgust only grew, and he pressed forward even more, forcing the teens into the ocean with a freezing pair of splashes. 

“I _never_ leave trash in the ocean. But tonight, I’m willing to make an exception.” 

He snapped the active machine over a raised knee and allowed its splinters to litter the deck before gathering up his precious nephews.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter for bonus kid! I hope you like it!

Scrooge McDuck scowled in disgust at the sunset. In just a few minutes, those bastardly brats would be roaming around town, looking for handouts. He yanked the curtains closed and threw his head out of his study. “I am not to be disturbed, Duckworth! I dinnae want to hear any pestiferous pounding or bothersome buzzing tonight!” 

“As you wish, sir.” 

The door slammed shut. 

There was a tugging on Duckworth’s vest. He looked down, even though he already knew it was Webby. She was perhaps the youngest to ever master the art of having contact with the afterlife. “Yes, Miss Webbigail?” 

“How come Mister Scrooge hates Halloween?” 

Duckworth sighed. It was not his place, but he recalled how Donald and Della hated having their questions ignored. Her inquisitiveness was quite similar to the twins’. “I suppose Mister McDuck is a bit pained by the holiday.” 

“Why is that?” 

“It reminds him too much of his own children.” 

Webby’s eyes brightened. “There’s other kids here?” Finally, someone to play with! Sure, Granny and Mister Duckworth were great at tea parties, but they couldn’t exactly fit into the best places for hide and seek. 

“No, I’m afraid not, poppet. The two of them, they...they were...lost.” 

Before she could ask lost how, Mister Duckworth shushed her. He offered her his hand, and they briefly disappeared into the deathscape. Webby was now able to see all of the ghosts that wandered around the outside of McDuck Manor, some trying to steal candy from trick-or-treaters, some walking around in aimless circles, others holding hands and talking, making jokes. Duckworth himself had even solidified and taken on color. Webby had forgotten how rosy his cheeks were. “Remember, you have to focus on the living while you are here.” 

Right. Webby tried to spot the reason as to why Duckworth thought they needed to hide. Before too long, she spotted a small crowd of teenagers that were soaked to the bone and staring daggers at the gates of Killmotor Hill.

“Ah, rowdy teenagers. How should we take care of this, Miss Webbigail?” 

Webby gave a mischievous smile so similar to the twins’, he briefly wondered if Della had somehow laid a fourth egg. “Let’s give them a little trick of our own. Can you do the thing? Please?” 

Duckworth let go of her hand, and Webby landed in the soft grass of the garden. She quickly ran to the gate for a closer look. 

“Go away!” she shouted in her most pathetic voice. The teenagers scoffed at her. 

“Aw, shut up and get out of the way, kid. We need to do _something_ to salvage this night.” The one with the stupid clown over his forehead reached into a damp pillowcase and removed a sopping roll of toilet paper. “We said BEAT IT, kid, before we --“

It had suddenly gotten extremely windy, but none of the trees were moving. The crisp air dropped below zero, and a dark fog seemed to hide the moon and the stars. 

Duckworth slowly climbed out of the ground. There was a sound of cracking whimpers as his figure morphed into a terrifying beast: a muscular shadow with the head of a ram’s skeleton. In a harsh whisper that seemed to wilt the plants, he bellowed, “NO TRESPASSING!” 

All that remained of the Beagle Brats’ presence was a heavy pillowcase and vomit. Webby kneeled and reached her hands through the bars, struggling to pull the substantial haul of stolen goodies through the gate. The bag was suddenly highlighted in a ghastly blue, and threw itself over the gates. 

“Thanks, Mister Duckworth. Hey! Wanna share with me?” 

“Ah, I appreciate the offer, but alas, I do not feel the effects of hunger. I do know someone who has been ignoring my meal bells all day, however…” 

***

There was a rapt knocking at his door. Scrooge shoved his stacked pennies away as he rose to answer it. “What is it? I thought I said I dinnae want to be --” There was no one there. Frowning, he lowered his glare and found Webby. “Ach, Webbigail. I cannae play right now.” 

She held out a raggedy piece of cloth that began dripping onto his spats. “I brought candy.” 

He scowled. “What for?” 

“Candy is nice for when you’re feeling sad.” 

“I am not sad,” he declared in an annoyed tone, but he left the door open as he headed back for his desk anyway. 

“Sure you are. Trust me, I know how it feels to lose your two most favorite people in the world.” 

This intuitive infant! She had the audacity to crash into his chamber, and then to heave at his heartstrings? Before he could snap, she innocently asked, “So, do you like the nougat ones?” like nothing had occurred! 

Scrooge sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, I like the nougat ones. I dinnae like the crisps, though. Too crunchy.”

Her eyes brightened. “See! We’re perfect for each other! You can eat my nougat and I’ll have your crisps!”

Scrooge finally relented and gave the bonnie bairn a tiny smile. “Alright, lass. Ye win. But I owe ye, alright? Scrooge McDuck always pays back his debts.” 

“Don’t be silly, Unca Scrooge. I mean --” 

Donald used to have the same trouble pronouncing the “le” sound for a while. “That’s okay, Webbigail. That’s okay.”


End file.
